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<title>fragile hearts (and their quiet confessions) by ActuallyMe</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24843334">fragile hearts (and their quiet confessions)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyMe/pseuds/ActuallyMe'>ActuallyMe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DC Extended Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Confessions, F/F, Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:08:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,077</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24843334</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyMe/pseuds/ActuallyMe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lois has a deadline. Diana wants to help.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Diana (Wonder Woman)/Lois Lane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fragile hearts (and their quiet confessions)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She sits at her screen, the coffee mug beside her keyboard growing cold. Goddamn, it's freezing tonight.  It's the middle of June, and so cold she's had to wear a coat the whole month!  Metropolis has had some funky weather in recent years. Climate change, of course, but the politicians won't admit that. </p><p>She’s so tired. Long days at the office interviewing people for her normal articles, and now this editorial her boss has asked her to cobble together. She’s usually pretty eloquent on the subject of homelessness, but right now, she wonders if her anger is hindering her process more than helping it. The writing isn't flowing the way she’d like. She's covered why the proposed city ordinances of putting spikes on the sidewalk and armrests on the public benches are like hammering a gaping wound, but it feels like too much and not enough all at once.</p><p>The fact that she's writing about homelessness while holed up in her warm apartment on a cold night (it's 45 degrees in <em>June </em>, what the hell, man?) makes her feel like a hypocrite. If she really wanted to make a difference, she’d be out there at the soup kitchens; she’d be offering her couch to a stranger; she’d be paying for someone’s stay at a hotel.  But she has this stupid deadline, and she doesn’t really want to share her space with a stranger, and there’ve been budget cuts at work. She’s barely making ends meet. She’s not the star reporter or anything.</p><p>And sure, writing about inequality is good and all, gets the message out, but who's to say anyone actually reads the crap she gets published in the Daily Planet? Who's to say her editor won't scrap it for being too opinionated? It's an editorial, but they've done it before. </p><p>Too many questions. Deadline is in three hours and she's got to finish this.</p><p>&lt;&gt;</p><p>She wakes up forty five minutes later drooling on the keyboard to an urgent knock on her door. </p><p>“What?” She mumbles, getting up so quickly her rolling chair shoots backwards. “Fuck.”</p><p>The knocking starts again, and Lois stumbles through the hallways from her office to the front door. </p><p>A quick glance through the peephole shows her it's only Diana. Only Diana. There’s nothing “only” about her. Lois’s heart-rate quickens. She opens the door, and the towering woman on the other side gives her a small smile. </p><p>“You look exhausted.”</p><p>“Thaaaanks.”</p><p>“May I come in?”</p><p>Lois raises an eyebrow, trying to affect nonchalance even as her heart does a somersault in her chest. </p><p>“Sure.”  She steps aside while Diana walks in. </p><p>“When's deadline?” She asks.</p><p>Lois groans and rests her head on a wall. “a little over two hours. I think I passed out.”</p><p>Diana nods and thrusts a cup of Starbucks into Lois’s hands. “Come on. Let's go finish your article.”</p><p>&lt;&gt;</p><p>“So he says ‘no!  It's Superman!’ It was legitimately the worst joke ever and I'm so embarrassed that it actually exists.”</p><p>A black curl has fallen into Diana’s face while she shakes with laughter. “That's ridiculous!” Her voice booms in the cozy living room. Tears of mirth are running down her cheeks, and Lois can't help but admire her, her zest for life and her ability to allow herself to fill up the space in a room. </p><p>Diana didn't grow up having to make herself smaller for the sake of the male ego, it's clear, and it wasn’t until meeting her that Lois realised that's exactly what she herself does. She makes herself small and quiet in little ways, even if in big ways she rebels against that conditioning. </p><p>“Kal would love that!” Diana says finally, wiping the tears that have tracked down her cheeks. </p><p>“No he won't; don't you dare tell him. It's such a bad joke!”</p><p>“I liked it.” Diana says. She takes Lois’s hand and smiling, reminds her that “besides. He loves bad jokes.”</p><p>Lois feels her tongue grow clumsy in her mouth.  Diana is touching her hand. She is <em> touching her hand, </em> and Lois feels like she is very young, very inexperienced, and very silly. </p><p>So maybe she's a little bit in love with Diana. It's not a big deal, unrequited love happens all the time, but it's still painful. </p><p>“Lois? What's wrong? You look upset.”</p><p>Lois looks down at their entwined fingers and swallows before extricating her hand from<br/>
Diana’s. </p><p>“It's just late and I'm tired.” </p><p>Diana gives her an all knowing look. “I have seen you tired on late nights. This is not that.”</p><p>Lois sighs. Well. Half truths work better sometimes than lies. </p><p>“I'm… I like someone and I don't think they like me back.”</p><p>It's probably just her imagination, but Lois can't help but think Diana’s expression has dropped. It's just a flicker of disappointment, but hey, a girl can dream. </p><p>“Any man would be very silly indeed not to return your affections, Lois.”</p><p>“She's a woman.”</p><p>“Woman or man, they'd be foolish. You're a beautiful, kind, wonderful woman. You care so deeply about people, and…”</p><p>Okay this is definitely not Lois’s imagination; she's noticing a faint flush gracing Diana’s high cheekbones. </p><p>She bites the bullet, and interrupts. “It's you.” She plows on, not allowing herself to look at Diana, instead choosing to look at a spot near the floor.  “I really care about you. I have for-for months now. Every time you drop by to, like, make sure I make deadline, every time you smile at me, I just. I really like you, Diana.”</p><p>She feels a hand on her cheek, and Diana is smiling at her, a toothy smile that shows off her dimples. “I'm so glad, Lois. I really like you too.”</p><p>&lt;&gt; </p><p>They've fallen asleep on the couch after talking all night, Diana’s long legs everywhere. </p><p>Lois sneaks off to make breakfast, the soothing sound of Diana’s snores comforting her. They've done this before, falling asleep on the couch together, but last night was definitely something else altogether.</p><p>Diana doesn't really drink coffee, so Lois makes her a cup of tea and scrambles some eggs. </p><p>She's clanking around in her little kitchen when a shadow falls over her from the doorway. </p><p>“Good morning.” Lois smiles, holding out a plate of eggs and toast. </p><p>“Was last night a dream?” Diana asks, taking it and perching on a chair at the table. </p><p>“No. It wasn't.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>They eat their food in companionable silence and Lois decides that this is what happiness is.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote this in 2016, for a friend's bday and then figured the other day, fuck it. Might as well share.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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